You know, when someone is dying, but they can rally for a day, seem strong and lucid, and it seems a sign, not of recovery but an inevitability. I passed someone on a late autumn day that was like summer, and we exchanged our ‘good day’s. Was it? After new records this year, is it falling apart?

It is a good day – she stands as complete
as yesterday five years ago
gathered together from her bed
making sense and in command
with fragments in a sentence
that is still real.

Yes, it is a good day.

It is a good day – as the summer extends
into a reluctant autumn
floods recede from hurricanes
matchwood lies after typhoons
expense of fires and high seas
seem unreal.

Yes, it is a good day.

It is a good day – the sun is warm if low
a container ship has sailed
an easy north-west passage
and harvests were shorter too
drowned villages dried
stood real.

It is still a good day.

Today she left us – the leaves are red
we had known all year, kept
the good days to protect us
as everything slowly changed
as darkness dawned
became real.

It is still.

A ship has sailed – ice fragments
make sense shorten
it is a good day for change
we move inland leave villages
and coast gather
it is real.

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